


The Tired and the Sleepless

by astralZenith



Category: Othello - Shakespeare
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Sexual Content, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-21 22:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14924429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralZenith/pseuds/astralZenith
Summary: The one in which Iago isn't actually that terrible and Cassio can't get any sleep. Takes place after the events of the play.





	1. Insomnia

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly this is just one of those "If you can't find content for it make it yourself" kind of fics but hey maybe someone else will enjoy it too.

The silence had to be what bothered him the most. 

His room was positioned directly above the dungeons, and its previous occupant had assured him that the screams of those being tortured below would echo gently through the room, making it near impossible to achieve any restful sleep. 

But in the time since the event, since that terrible culmination of jealousy and deception left his dearest friends dead and him in charge of this god-forsaken island; with the man responsible trapped in the dark space beneath him, he had not heard a single sound resonate from below him. No screams, no moans of agony or confessions of guilt, no begging for mercy. Nothing but the gentle sound of the sea breeze blowing in from his open window. 

He asked for this room for a reason. He wanted desperately to hear Iago's voice again, either in confession or in his screams of agony that the senators had assured him would be brought forth via his sentencing. But so far he has been left nervous and wanting in the silence around him. 

They had told him that nothing they had done so far had made the man willing to confess his misdeeds, or to pray, or- anything, really. But they wouldn't stop trying, of course.

They'd break him eventually, they said. 

For the life of him he had no idea what compelled him to seek that villain's voice. A normal person would have taken his vow of silence as a blessing, assurance that those terrible events could never be replicated with a gentle suggestion and a few well placed words. 

But he was not normal, and that voice had been one he looked to for comfort for the past few years, in times like this where his anxiety would keep him awake for hours on end. 

Cassio turned under the thin sheet of his bed, his mind bringing to him one particular memory from when he had just joined the Venetian Army some few years ago. 

\--

They had shown him his new quarters, a small room he was to share with another low ranking officer while they were stationed abroad, his first actual deployment in his military career. 

He didn't know anyone in this unit, and no one here knew his family in Florence or would be stirred by their titles and influence. Here, he was no one. And for a while, the freedom it allowed him was _euphoric_. 

The first friend he ever made was his roommate. Iago. The man with bright green eyes and dusty brown hair and a lopsided smile that made the stress of battle feel like little more than a child's game. 

\--

Cassio sits up as the memory comes to him, getting out of bed to lean tiredly against his dresser, the mirror attached to the wall above it showing him a picturesque insomniac.

Dark circles underlining sharp blue eyes, blonde hair mussed and sticking out in a thousand different directions. 

He looked pathetic. 

_God,_ he felt pathetic too. 

\--

The first night of insomnia had been the worst. They were stationed to assist the main encampment upon the first light of dawn, and the anxiety of that impending cacophony of blood and death gripped him so intensely that he thought it would kill him. 

Apparently, his new roommate had noticed this. 

_"Oh, did I mention at dinner how beautiful the shoreline here is? Last time I was here there were seashells the size of my face! Can you believe that? I remember, there was this Captain who had been recently deployed with us, and he was massive. Size of a bloody house. And he told us if we grabbed any of those shells he'd shove them so far up our asses our grandchildren would taste them. So of course I filled my entire satchel with them when he wasn't looking. Don't give me that look, I'm not making this up! Look in my bag, I still have them. They're a terrible waste of space, but I am nothing if not a man fueled by spite."_

He laughed when Iago got out of bed and threw an old, worn out satchel at him, which was indeed filled to the brim with the biggest seashells he had ever seen. Some had cracked and shattered, but a few looked as pristine as they must have been the day he picked them up. 

His companion gave him a lopsided smile and proceeded to tell him about how he and his entire unit banded together to leave their seashells hidden about that captain's rooms for a good few months afterwards. 

He carried on talking about this and that for hours, until Cassio was so enraptured by his stories and antics that the upcoming battle was all but forgotten.

 _He did that every time you couldn't sleep for three years._

\--

_Wait, didn't he give you one of those shells?_

His eyes widened at the thought. Had he? He turned back towards his bed and hurriedly opened the chest at the foot of it, digging through it contents without much care for what happened to the junk he threw over his shoulders on his quest. A few minutes later, he found what he was looking for.

A seashell. Wrapped in what looked like the torn remains of a well-worn chemise. And it was indeed the size of his face. 

_"I am nothing if not a man fueled by spite"_

That was the cause of all of this, wasn't it? Spite. Spite over Cassio's promotion, and his lack thereof. Spite over his loneliness, his wife, friend, and general ignoring him for the sake of a whirlwind romance. 

The smallest pang of guilt worked its way through his gut as he turned the seashell over in his hand, gently observing it's surface as if it held the secrets of how to make all of this right again. 

_You could save him, if you wanted too._

The thought startled him, making him look up wildly as if it had been suggested by a phantom and not his own sleep-deprived mind. 

_You've been through so much, who could fault you for being selfish just this once?_

He stood up, looking from the shell to the door as he thought about it.

 _You're the governor now. Your word is law. No one would care._

This is a terrible idea. 

_Yes, but you're going to do it anyway, aren't you?_

He was out the door before his mind could even finish that statement.  
  



	2. Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come I promise! I'll try to post one chapter a day if I have the resolve to not speedpost everything I've already written. ^-^

_I should have gotten dressed first_ , he thought, as he made his way through the cold, dark interior of the dungeon. It was still very late at night, and all but a few yawning guards were gone for the night. No one questioned him as he made his way towards Iago's cell.

_That's right, they gave me permission to do with him as I please, didn't they? As retribution for what he did to all of us._

He reached into his pocket and found the small silver key to his cell. The one they gave him in case he changed his mind and wanted some vengeance of his own.

_This is not what they had in mind, is it?_

Well, they didn't need to know that.

He made one last turn, and found himself finally in front of his goal.

Iago's cell.

\--

_By god, he looks terrible_

His chest was rising and falling slowly from his position on the floor of the cell, and in the dim light that came from his candle he could make out the burns and cuts that covered his bare chest.

The lack of screams most certainly hadn't been from lack of trying.

He looked to Iago's face, finding it surprisingly free of mutilation, with only a few small cuts marring its surface. He looked kind of peaceful, in his sleep. Gentle, even.

He took out his key and went to unlock the cell, the resounding sound causing Iago to shift slightly in his sleep. For a moment, Cassio hesitated, thinking that maybe this wasn't such a good plan.

The almost inaudible whimper Iago let out when he moved dispelled any thoughts of giving up there.

He entered the cell, setting the candle down on the small table inside and reached down to lift Iago into his arms.

_Wait wait wait what if he wakes up-_

Too late. Iago was safely nestled in his arms, still fast asleep. Well, that or faking it.

Knowing his friend, probably faking it.

He exited the cell, briefly stopping to inform the guard on duty that he had decided to take up the senate on their offer and was taking Iago to his chambers permanently. The guard gave him a solemn nod, and Cassio began to ascend the stairs leading back to his chamber.

\--

Once Iago was deposited safely upon his bed, he set about looking for something to treat his wounds with. It didn't take too long to find the bandages and salves that he had been given to treat the slashes on the back of his calves.

_He could have killed you right then and there. But he didn't._

Maybe that's why he was going to all this trouble. Because he wasn't dead. Because he could have died, but didn't. The cuts weren't even that deep or damaging, just well placed enough to hurt like hell and bleed enough to cause concern. He had never been able to handle pain well. They told him he was lucky.

_Do you think he did that on purpose?_

There's no way to find that out now. Iago, even before all this, was stubborn as a mule. He never went back on his word, so there's no doubt that he'll remain silent no matter what anyone does.

He grabbed what he needed and got to work treating what few of Iago's wounds he could see that he knew how to treat. The rest would have to wait for a doctor, or some patchwork medical research on Cassio's part. He must have really been out of it, because no matter how he moved or positioned his body Iago never once stirred or showed any indication of waking.

He looked at the gashes and burns, the places on his skin where the bruises turned that rather lovely pale skin of his into shades of blue and purple and black. He really did look terrible.

_Are you crying?_

He reached up and felt his cheeks. Wet and warm. He was indeed crying, now that he was face to face with Iago again. This man had been his best friend for so long, and part of him felt that his betrayal had been his own doing, like he somehow was to blame for everything.

_If this is how you react when he's asleep, how on earth will you handle him when he's awake?_

We can figure that out in the morning.

\--

He carefully laid the still-sleeping man under the covers of his bed, gently tucking him in for reasons he couldn't quite understand himself. He backed away, and after a few moments Iago stirred a bit, stretching his arms out and grabbing the only other pillow on the bed and clutching it tightly against his chest.

_That's right, he used to do that when he had something else in bed with him, didn't he?_

He chuckled gently under his breath, wiping away the last traces of sadness from his face as Iago nuzzled the pillow, holding it as close as possible in his sleep.

_By heaven, it was adorable then and it's adorable now._

If anyone had decided to walk in at that moment, to see him fondly smiling down at the man who was responsible for the death of their general and the sweet Desdemona, they would have thought he had gone mad.

Perhaps he had.

_Wait, where are you going to sleep now?_

Shit.


	3. Awake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be gone this weekend so I'm posting two new chapters tonight instead of one! And I just wanted to say thank you for your kind words and I'm so happy to know people are actually reading and liking my work!

When Iago woke up he first noticed a distinct lack of a cold, damp floor underneath his aching body. 

In fact, the surface he found himself upon was quite comfortable. And soft. And warm. 

He tentatively opened an eye to see where they had taken him that was so very not-dungeon like, and was met with a very... interesting sight. 

Sitting in a chair underneath an open window was Lieutenant (now Governor) Cassio, sprawled about with his head leaning to one side, snoring softly. The sunlight slowly starting to peak through the window behind him made Cassio look almost angelic, in his sleep, if not for the small trail of drool making its way down the man's arm, which his head was precariously perched upon. The sight sent Iago's thoughts racing. 

_Did he bring me here? And how long has he been sleeping like that? He gets sick so easily why is the window open oh god if he's been there like that all night his neck is going to be killing him he should know better-_

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door, which immediately woke up Cassio; 

-who was promptly startled out of his precarious position and onto the floor with a bang.

Iago stifled a laugh and closed his eyes again. 

He couldn't really tell what was being said, but after a few awkward sentences and some careful maneuvering of the door from the sound of it, the visitor left and in their place a very, very delicious aroma filled the room. 

It was at this point that Cassio started talking to himself. 

"Why do they always give me extra helpings of everything? Do I look _that_ thin to them I mean really its just rude at this point." 

_He does look that thin. He always has._

"Well I guess it's a good thing now, what with Iago here and all. I hope he wakes up soon otherwise the food will be cold and then it just won't- Wait no what am I _saying_? I don't know what to say at this point I haven't thought about it this far oh god-"

_He... isn't angry with me?_

*crack*

"AAAHHH WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH MY _NECK_ -"

That time Iago was unsuccessful in stifling a giggle. 

_God damn it._

Cover obviously blown now that Cassio had stopped complaining about his neck due to the sudden noise that come from his direction, he slowly sat up in bed. He noted faintly that sometime during the night some of his wounds had been tended to and were currently covered in bandages that compressed his chest in a way that made sitting up much more difficult than usual. Considering the circumstances, that is.  

He looked up, his eyes meeting the gaze of the incredulous blue ones that were now frozen on him. 

They stayed like this for a few minutes, both too scared to move or speak, until Iago decided he'd had enough. 

Carefully, he lifted a bandaged hand off the bed and waved weakly at Cassio, who was still staring slack-jawed at his position on the bed. 

"O-oh. Um. Hello. I see you're, um, awake."

This is good, he doesn't seem angry. Maybe he didn't bring me here to kill me. 

He nodded once in response, to which Cassio seemed surprised yet pleased. This seemed to prompt him to talk some more.

"I've just got breakfast in, if you're hungry. Well, I'm sure you are, now that I think about it. Dungeons aren't known for making their prisoners fat and happy. So you've probably had nothing to eat these past few days. Sorry about that. Um, Here" 

Cassio picked up the tray of food and brought it to him on the bed. He seemed nervous, but eager to make him feel comfortable, if the whole chair thing was any indication. But why was he doing all of this? 

"I think I remember you liking apples, right? They've gotten a few in from the orchard. And they sent me some eggs and bacon too, with a big thing of porridge. So there has to be something on here that you like."

Iago frowned at the thought of eating. Did Cassio not know about-?

"Oh, are you not hungry? I mean, I understand if its just not very appetizing but you really should eat something, you seemed a lot lighter when I carried you here and I'm worried that you might not be nourished enough-"

_He really doesn't know, how- wait did he say he carried me here?_

He gave Cassio a confused look in exchange for his worried chatter, slowly bringing one of his bandaged arms up in front of his mouth. Iago reached out, with some difficulty, and grabbed Cassio's arm, which hushed him immediately. He waited until those blue eyes of his looked into his own, before pointing to his mouth and opening it for Cassio's inspection. 

Cassio gasped, and raised a hand to rest it gently against Iago's face as he inspected the damage. 

Iago's tongue was very seriously burned, while he was in captivity. He shuddered at the memory of that terrible event, of the pain and force and _what came after._   Iago supposed that it must look as terrible as it felt, considering the face Cassio made when he looked at it. 

It was a long time before Cassio said anything else, as he simply stared dumbfounded at Iago's mouth even after he had closed it again. Cassio's brows knit together in confusion, and his thumb absentmindedly rubbed the part of his cheek it rested on before gently leaving his face.

_Why the hell does he seem so worried about me?_

"Y-you, you can't talk with th-that kind of damage, can you?"

Iago looked at him questioningly, and shook his head no. He honestly didn't know if he could ever speak again, even if he wanted too. At this point, he was afraid of what it would sound like if he did. 

Cassio gripped the sheets around him like a vice, and was starting to either tremble or shake with rage. After a moment he threw himself from the bed, only to roam about his room like a bull waiting to charge. 

"T-they, they _lied_ to me. They told me you wouldn't speak. They didn't say a damn thing about making you _unable to speak at all_ -"

Cassio's ensuing rage and pacing was unexpected and rather terrifying, to be honest. He was shaking with anger at this point. This was what he expected to see him doing in regards to what he'd done, how he'd damned their friends to death and suffering. Not _this_. Not from what had been done to him. Last he checked, he deserved this. 

"-and they had the audacity to _lie_ , to my face, and say that you were just so stubborn that you had kept to that vow of yours and refused to speak at all, knowing full well that my orders explicitly said that if you confessed you were to be released _on that instant!"_

_They had never told me that. They hadn't told me anything._

Opting to look away from Cassio's rant for a moment to care for his now insistently growling stomach, he grabbed the bowl of slop they considered "porridge" here and hesitantly raised a spoonful to his mouth. It hurt, but not nearly as badly as he anticipated. He continued eating small spoonfuls of the stuff until Cassio calmed down. 

And he did calm down, once he noticed Iago was finally eating. Then the anger quickly transformed into worried doting. 

"Wait, does that hurt? Is it too hot to eat? Maybe you should let it cool down so it doesn't agitate anything, or I can go to the kitchens and see if they have something that would hurt less, I'm sure they have something-"

_He hasn't been able to sleep lately. He only acts this scrambled and emotional when he's sleep deprived._

To prove a point or to just be an ass, he wasn't quite sure, he picked up one of the apples off the tray and took a large bite out of it, immediately regretting the decision as pain filled his mouth and he struggled to hide the signs of it from his face.

He apparently failed to do that as Cassio immediately launched himself at him and into another bout of worried chatter as he tried (and failed) to swallow the half-chewed bite of apple. 

_Yeah, let's try not doing that ever again._


	4. Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't be able to update again until Sunday so here is today's bonus chapter!

They sat in relative silence after that, Iago eating what little his mouth would let him after that incident and Cassio slowly eating his way through the food Iago didn't want or physically couldn't consume, constantly mindful of what Iago could and couldn't eat and making sure that he didn't accidentally grab something Iago wanted to try. 

After he was satisfied with the amount Iago had eaten, Cassio took the tray out of the room and came back with a filled jug and a few cups, which he sat on the nightstand next to where Iago was on the bed. 

He poured some of the water into a cup, which Iago accepted and drank eagerly. 

_How long has it been since he had something to drink?_

A few minutes pass, no one saying or doing anything until Cassio starts to talk again. 

"You know, it's funny, the locals here don't seem to care much about us or what we do. Honestly I think they'd all prefer if we'd go back to Venice and leave them all to their business, Turks or not. I-I don't think they've even noticed we're here sometimes. Except for the prostitutes, of course, but they make money off of us that they have a harder time squeezing out of the locals-"

_You're rambling again._

Iago simply watched him talk, head cocked gently to the side as if wondering where he was going with this. To be honest, he didn't know where he was going with it either. 

"A-and I went to the shore the other day. It was terrible. All rocks and garbage, no sand or, or seashells anywhere. Just terrible, jagged rocks strewn about here and there. Honestly I don't think they need us to protect them from the Turks, their beaches are ugly enough to scare anything off."

_What are you even saying?_

Cassio backs up until he hits the dresser behind him, his hand gently grazing the seashell laying on top of it. He picks it up, staring down at it and holding it close to his chest as if it was an anchor keeping him from floating away. 

"Oh, and last night I found that-that seashell you gave me. From that night before my first battle. Remember that? Y-you stayed up with me for hours until I was calm enough to pass out. This thing really is as big as, as b-big as-"

His face feels hot, and it might just be his mind playing tricks on him but it feels wet, too, all of a sudden. 

_Oh god, you're crying aren't you?_

He doesn't know why he's crying all of sudden. Maybe it's the realization of everything that had happened, the floodgates finally opening after holding back so much these last few days, trying to appear strong. 

"Oh god, I have no idea what I'm doing. I brought you here and you're hurt so badly and I don't know what to do about it but you're a criminal but I can't handle being away from you and I can't sleep anymore without you and I don't know how to fix this or anything and, and-"

_And you're the reason our friends are dead but I'm more worried about you than anything else._

He's openly sobbing now, the Iago that the senate and the rest of the island had planted into everyone's minds and hearts, the one that killed his wife in cold blood and drove his general to commit the worst of crimes colliding with the _friend_ and _companion_ he had always known that was currently sitting on his bed, injured beyond his treating and looking so _hurt_ and _guilty_.

Suddenly he feels a pair of arms wrap themselves around his waist.

He looks down to find that Iago has gotten out of bed sometime during his weeping and was now trying, weakly, to hug him. His legs are obviously unsteady, and he's having trouble lifting his arms, but he's trying. 

Iago was about a head shorter than him, but in that moment he didn't really care or notice. Cassio buried his face in his shoulder as he continued to sob, finding the comfort almost too much to handle after going so long without it. 

_This happens every time you haven't gotten enough sleep._

Slowly, he notices that they've moved away from the dresser and toward the bed, at which point Iago's weak legs finally give out and they both fall down onto the bed with a thump. 

\--

It was maybe an hour, maybe two before Cassio woke up. The first thing he registered was being warm, almost to the point of sweating in the summer heat, but too comfortable to do anything about it. He almost turned over to fall back into the sweet, long forgotten embrace of sleep when he noticed that his bed was, unfortunately, breathing. 

The circumstances of his situation hit him with all the grace of a cannonball smacking into a castle. 

_Did that really happen? Was that real?_

He jolted upright, looking down to find that he had, in fact, been laying on Iago's chest for the better part of the morning. 

To be fair, it doesn't look like he minded that much. 

Iago was fast asleep; curled around Cassio as tightly as he had that pillow the night before, strangely enough, and Cassio found that fact strangely comforting. 

For a moment, he even considered joining him again, if not for the realization that they were both covered in sweat, and then the _more important_ realization that it was, in fact, late into the morning, and he did have an _entire island_ that needed his attention. 

He jumped out of bed, bolting around the room and getting dressed as quickly as possible, a thousand meetings and plans that he had most certainly forgotten about suddenly making their way to the forefront of his mind. 

Before he rushed out of the room, his mind gently called him back to the sleeping figure on the other side of the room. 

_You won't be back for awhile. He should have something to do if he wakes up._

He rushed over to his trunk, digging quickly until he found the few old books that he kept with him, gifts from people he either didn't remember or never cared about. Beside them, some ink and parchment sat, waiting to stain whatever clothing he was careless enough to throw into his trunk with too little thought and too much force. 

He took out all of them and sat them gently beside the bedside table, quickly scribbling a note that he prayed would be legible before finally rushing out of the room to start his day. 

'These are for you, please don't be afraid to use them! - Cassio'

\--

Iago woke up feeling distinctly moist, which he never took to be a good sign. 

Moist meant blood, or piss, or- well, things that are definitely Not Pleasant. Especially after extended time spent in the dark, moist dungeons below an old fortress that was full of people who were not very fond of him at the moment. Thankfully, he noted as he slowly sat up in bed, it looked like he was just covered in sweat this time. Enough sweat for two, actually. 

Oh. 

_OH._

He suddenly remembered what had landed him in his current position on the bed to begin with, and looked quickly around the room for it's owner. 

His eyes quickly settled on the piece of parchment laying on the bedside table, regarding its contents and the books and ink laying neatly next to him. 

Grabbing the books first, he found the selection rather sparse. Dante, a few selection of Greek tragedy (fitting), and a small selection from Virgil. All written in Latin, of course, which he found in poor taste for the subject matter. 

Looking back at the parchment, and the ink and quills beside it, he considered his options. 

Option one, go back to sleep. Tempting, but difficult, as the heat of the day made the softness of the bed decidedly uncomfortable and sweaty. 

Option two, read. But he was not fond of Virgil, and the Greek Plays and Dante were a little too topical for his liking. 

Option three, write. But what would he write? A confession? An apology? That might be what Cassio was trying to pry from him, with all of whatever this was, but part of him wanted to avoid reminding him of those events, should his worried doting turn into the viscous hatred that he probably deserved. 

He decided to put off that decision, for now, in favor of finding something that wasn't covered in sweat to put on. 

Slowly rising from the bed, he wandered over Cassio's trunk, the contents of which were strewn haphazardly across the decidedly small room. Too small for a governor, really. 

His legs were working fine, having been spared the brunt of his punishment, but other parts, the ones covered in bruises and injuries that were too deep and painful for him to do anything about, made walking difficult. 

He grabbed what looked like one of Cassio's shirts, one that was definitely too big for Iago (Cassio being taller and slightly broader in the chest than he was), and pulled it gently over his head after carefully removing his own soiled linens. 

It was too big for him, really, the hem hanging down nearly to his knees, but it was clean and cool and exactly what he needed. 

Iago then sat gently upon the bed again, considering his options. Then, deciding that it was best to at least write some of his thoughts down, to try and focus, (and of course Cassio didn't need to see anything if he didn't want him to) he grabbed the ink and parchment. 

_This is a terrible idea, you know._

It was. But before he could stop and grab one of the old books instead, he remembered how Cassio looked before they both fell asleep. So sad, so broken and tired and overwhelmed. So lonely. 

_All because of me._

Determined, Iago dipped the quill in the ink, and began to write. 


	5. Notes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so long to update but here it is! Updates might be a little slower from now on because this is the last of my pre written chapters but I promise I'm still working on it!

Cassio finally found time to head back to his room way past lunchtime, almost ready to skip the meal in favor of catching up on all of his missed meetings and paperwork (and, between meetings, gathering medical supplies and information for Iago's unattended wounds) if not for the sudden thought of Iago, sitting all alone and hungry up in his room. 

He sprinted down the the kitchens, grabbing whatever he could find that was soft and easy to chew and swallow, as well as some bread and cheese for himself, and made his way upstairs along with the salves and other things he had found for medicine. 

Carefully backing into the room while holding the tray, he almost doesn't notice Iago in his focusing on not spilling anything. 

Almost. 

Looking up after placing the tray on his dresser, he found Iago, surrounded by handwritten notes, ( _and wearing one of his shirts, he noted, which made him feel things he most certainly did not understand_ ) furiously scrawling more into a piece of parchment from his position on the bed. He was so focused on what he was doing that he hadn't noticed Cassio come in. That, or didn't care. 

Considering the look of surprise he got after accidentally sneezing, and how startled Iago looked, he guessed it was the former. 

Iago guiltily looked around himself at the pages upon pages of parchment, and looked back to Cassio, cheeks turning ever so slightly red. 

_Oh god say something you idiot-_

"No no no, please, d-don't let me interrupt you." He said, mentally slapping himself. 

Iago immediately gathered all his writing into a neat pile and held it close to his chest, almost protectively. Looking back to Cassio, he looked as if he would have said something, but then realization crossed his face. 

Tossing his bundle aside, he snatched up the quill and a blank piece of parchment and scribbled down something. Satisfied, he reached out to give it to Cassio, who stared dumbfounded for a few moments before gently taking the paper from his hand. 

_"Are you alright?"_ It read, and for a moment Cassio had no idea what to say. 

He honestly hadn't expected Iago to say anything to him, even in writing. 

After standing there for what must have been a good minute, opening and closing his mouth over and over like a fish out of water, he said,

"M-me? I'm fine, really, um, how are... you? Oh! Are you hungry? It's some time past lunch now but I've been so busy today that I nearly forgot to eat which reminded me that you need to eat too, and" He turned, grabbing the tray of food and bringing it and the note to the bed. "I found some things in the kitchen, soft bread and milk and some very smooth cheese that I thought might be good for your mouth but I can go find something else if it isn't." 

Catching himself rambling, he looked up to find Iago looking at him in confusion. Before he knew it, Iago had taken the parchment from his hand and began to, pensively, write something else. He paused several times while writing, almost unsure as to if he wanted to say anything at all. He looked nervous, something Cassio had rarely seen in all his years of knowing the man. 

Cassio made a small attempt to calm his nerves as he sat down on the bed. "It's alright, you can ask me anything. Anything you want." 

_But can you answer anything he asks you?_

Iago stares deeply into Cassio's eyes for a moment, as if checking within them for his honesty, before slowly writing something down. He hesitates, before laying the parchment gently before Cassio and looking away. 

Cassio reaches for the parchment carefully, as if Iago were a faun and any sudden movement might scare him off. Looking down at it, his breath hitches and suddenly its hard to breathe.

" _I'm sorry_ ", it says. 

This time Cassio really is speechless. 

He looks deep into Iago's eyes as they stare back at him, deep green orbs full of guilt and anger and embarrassment. He has no idea what to say. Iago breaks eye contact, looking down at the bed sheets where his hand plays nervously with the bedding. 

Cassio follows Iago's eyes to the other pieces of parchment tossed along the bed, and his breath hitches again when he catches some of the words. 

Grabbing some of the pages, his eyes pore over the words, brows knit tightly in concentration. 

Questions. A thousand questions; thoughts thrown onto paper as they came to mind. 

_"What do you want from me? What can I do? Why are you doing this? Why am I here what do I mean to you what can I do to make it better what can I do to make it last-"_

So many were crossed out, and some were so quickly written that they were impossible to read. But he understood the core of it all, the emotions behind them. 

_Can you forgive him for what he did? Does he deserve it? People are dead because of him._

That's true. But when he looked up and saw what he thought were Iago's eyes watering and the beginning of tears falling down his flushed cheeks, he broke. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the pure emotion of the last few weeks weighing too heavily on him, but he knew what he was going to do next regardless of the cause. 

_He's sorry. And you're going to forgive him._

He wraps Iago in his arms far too forcefully to be considerate of his injuries, but all that mattered was getting Iago _close_ and letting him know everything wasn't ok _but it could be._

Cassio didn't say a word as he held onto Iago for dear life, like he was a raft aboard a sinking ship. For a moment, Iago was stiff, but then settled into the embrace and weakly held him back. 

Cassio was still at a loss for words, with no idea what to say to encapsulate everything he felt and everything this meant to him, so he decided to say anything and everything that came to mind and hope, _hope_ that Iago understood. 

"It's not ok. Nothing is ok right now but I _forgive_ you and I _care_ and as long as we try we can _make_ it ok. I'm here and I'll always be here and I _need_ you and I won't let anything happen to you again as long as you're here with me because no matter what you do I can't stand the thought of _losing you_ again."

At this point he can barely hold back his tears, and from the sound of it Iago can't either. They hold each other like that for a long time, both clinging to each other tightly with neither willing to let go. 

Cassio is the first one to find some of his composure and when he does he places a gentle, almost unfeelable kiss to the top of Iago's head, which is still buried in his chest. 

"We'll be ok. We'll be ok." He says, over and over like a mantra, hand tangled in Iago's hair. Like if he says it enough it'll come true. God, he hopes it does. 

Iago backs out of the embrace just a bit, out of Cassio's chest but still in his arms, to look into his eyes. Both of their faces were red and splotchy from crying together and their tears still flowed freely, but they didn't weight as heavily on their cheeks. 

They looked closely into each others eyes, faces inching ever closer, _nearly-_

Iago's stomach suddenly growled loudly enough for Cassio to feel it, and they both reeled back in surprise. 

They both blinked at each other, before Cassio erupted into laughter, Iago following soon after. 

They held each other, laughing hard for the first time in what must have been months. The mere sound of Iago's laugh after all this time enough to fill Cassio's heart with a little more hope and joy than had been there in weeks. 

He beams at Iago's lopsided smile and feels _whole._

Cassio untangled himself from Iago, with some difficulty, and brought over their lunch, which had sat forgotten on the dresser. 

They ate in silence, but it was like a veil had lifted, and the nervous energy of before had vanished. 

Things, for the first time in a very long while, were almost normal again. 

_We needed this._

\--


End file.
